


my love, there is no spot in thee

by mygalfriday (BrinneyFriday)



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, aka five times river tries to seduce twelve and one time she doesn't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 13:08:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11647197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrinneyFriday/pseuds/mygalfriday
Summary: This version of her husband is a bit more difficult to ruffle, as she’s been quick to discover since their reunion. He’s certainly still loads of fun and she has no complaints about either his body or his voracity but the thought of rattling this Doctor is far too appealing to ignore.





	my love, there is no spot in thee

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by River's line in the THORS: "Doctor, you have no idea whether I look amazing or not."
> 
> Story title from Song of Solomon 4:7

 

**i.**

 

When they finish dinner on the balcony, the Doctor has another surprise in store. With a grin, he takes her hand and leads her back to the TARDIS – piloting the ship to the house on Darillium he’d purchased. The clever sod had gotten quite a lot accomplished while she was unconscious.

 

Standing in the yard and staring at the little white house with the blue door, River blinks back tears. A house, _no_ – a home. Their home. One they’ll live in together, linearly, like a real married couple.

 

The Doctor swipes his thumb tenderly across her knuckles. “Is it all right?”

 

Fighting back the urge to curl into her husband and cry, River tightens her grip on his hand, ever conscious of his hopeful eyes on her. Turning to him with a bright smile that wobbles with emotion, she breathes, “It’s perfect, darling.”

 

He carries her over the threshold and when River kisses him, they stagger down the hall toward the bedroom like a pair of newlyweds. The Doctor has a whole new body she needs to acquaint herself with and he’s only too happy to let her, his calloused hands warm and gentle as he holds her to him and whispers things she never thought she would hear the Doctor say – _I missed you, don’t leave me, I love you, you’re perfect_.

 

It’s weeks before they even think of venturing far from their bed, much less bother with something as trivial as dressing. It’s the Doctor who breaks first. Bathed in sweat and covered in teeth marks, he collapses onto their mattress and stares breathlessly at the ceiling. Voice roughened and hesitant, he suggests, “Maybe we should go out.”

 

Curled around her pillow and feeling far too satisfied to even attempt teasing him about his age catching up with him, River agrees with a languid shrug of her shoulders. “I could eat.”

 

Eyes wandering along her form shamelessly, the Doctor mutters, “Me too.”

 

She laughs and swats him, uncomplaining when he captures her wrist and pins her beneath him with a playful growl. They’re distracted again almost instantly and it’s another twelve hours before they attempt to leave their room. It’s hardly her fault the Doctor looks so delectable when he’s all flushed and grinning and it’s even less her fault that he finds her sex-tangled hair so irresistible. Telling herself that it’s been far too long for both of them and no one in the universe could blame them for wanting their fill of each other, she sinks into the Doctor’s embrace without regret.

 

When they finally do manage to let go of each other, they shower separately so as not to further delay their inevitable return to the rest of the universe. Humming under her breath and unable to stifle the smile on her face, River scans her wardrobe with a critical eye.

 

This version of her husband is a bit more difficult to ruffle, as she’s been quick to discover since their reunion. He’s certainly still loads of fun and she has no complaints about either his body or his voracity but the thought of rattling this Doctor is far too appealing to ignore.

 

She selects a slinky red dress from her wardrobe, slips into a pair of heels, paints her lips red, and teases her curls into voluminous ringlets around her face – all with the implicit intent of seeing the Doctor nearly swallow his tongue.

 

When he emerges from his shower smelling of her shampoo, pressed suit already on and gray hair still slightly damp, River is waiting for him. Leaning against a bedpost, hip cocked and red lips curved into a smile, she asks, “What do you think?”

 

He stops short and grins at the sight of her, as though he hasn’t seen her in weeks instead of minutes. His eyes soften and he moves toward her with purpose. River feels her stomach flutter, biting her lip as she waits for him to reach her. His hands settle on her hips and she breathes in the fresh scent of soap clinging to his skin.

 

“You’re lovely,” he murmurs, and presses a kiss to her cheek. With that, he moves away and reaches for his coat. River stares after him, frowning. It hadn’t exactly been the reaction she was hoping for but the Doctor slips into his coat and turns to her still smiling. Holding out his arm, he asks, “Shall we, wife?”

 

Perhaps he’s tired. The Doctor is over two thousand, after all, and they’ve just spent the last several weeks positively ravishing one another. Even River is feeling a little overexerted. Shrugging it off, she smiles and accepts his arm, leaning into his side as they venture out to explore Darillium.

 

**ii.**

 

Delightfully satiated from their first few heated weeks together, it’s a while before either of them feels the need to do anything more intimate than cuddle. The Doctor, despite his new prickly nature, is surprisingly wonderful at such intimacies. He reaches for her hand constantly and he’s the perfect big spoon to her little spoon when they decide to sleep. He likes to read with his head on her lap, coaxing her into fiddling with his hair. All he has to do is look at her in that particular, tender way of his and she feels so full of light and love that she could burst with it.

 

It’s all been very sweet and domestic and honestly she’s over the moon about every last bit of it but she’s more than ready to have her husband again. Which is why when the Doctor goes out for milk and crisps, River sheds her clothes and changes into a set of sheer black lingerie she’d bought for their anniversary a few years ago.

 

The first time she’d worn it, the Doctor’s younger self had blushed and stammered and nearly tripped twice just trying to get to her. The memory of it still makes her grin with pride. She’s doubtful this more mellow version of her husband will be quite so easily flustered but she’s hoping for at least a bit of stuttering and a burning need to loosen the collar of his shirt.

 

When the Doctor returns, she’s posing seductively across their bed with an expectant smirk. The front door opens and shuts and she hears his voice down the corridor. “River?”

 

She adjusts her bustier. “Bedroom, darling.”

 

His footsteps echo in the hallway. “They didn’t have your mint chocolate ice cream but I managed to find the raspberry gelato. In the back. After I broke into the freezer.” He pauses in the doorway still carrying the groceries, and frowns thoughtfully. “Bloody hell, you’ve been a terrible influence.”

 

“Oh don’t pretend you never broke the rules before we met.” Still waiting for him to look up and notice her attire, she pats the bed invitingly and purrs, “Bring that gelato over here, sweetie. I’ve got an idea.”

 

He moves toward the bed but, frustratingly, he still isn’t paying attention. “It’s hard to say when your influence started considering you pop in and out of my timeline as it pleases you,” he grumbles. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten you snogging the daylights out of number Six.”

 

“As I recall, you were a very willing participant.” River latches onto his sleeve and tugs, sighing patiently. “Darling, you haven’t said a thing about my outfit.”

 

Finally, he looks up and actually notices that she’s half-dressed and wearing lace, artfully arranged amongst their pillows with her hair undone and her legs parted invitingly. A slow smile grows across his dear face and he loosens his grip on the grocery bags – clearly pleasantly surprised – but as far as reactions go, it’s lacking a bit of _oomph_. It is, however, all she gets.

 

“Trying to tell me something, dear?”

 

River forces a smile, telling herself the keen interest in his soft-eyed gaze is more than enough. “Come closer, Time Lord, and I’ll make myself more clear.”

 

The Doctor drops the groceries entirely, clambering onto their bed with a grin.

 

**iii.**

 

In the grand scheme of things, having a husband who doesn’t drop to his knees in worship at the sight of her half-naked hardly ranks as a marital issue. They’ve certainly had much worse to contend with over the years – like her refusal to let him see when she was hurting and his willingness to let her hide. And yet it still irks her.

 

Which is why one morning a few months into their time on Darillium, River finds herself slipping on an old pair of denim cutoffs. They’re faded and comfortable, but tight and scandalously short – a favorite from her University days. Whenever she wore them, it drove the Doctor absolutely mad; especially because in those days, he’d had the notion that she was far too young and impressionable and he had to keep his hands to himself. Frustrated with his stubborn decision, River had made sure he suffered for it.

 

She’d taken particular pleasure in wearing the shorts on adventures with him and her parents, delighting in the way he blushed and stared and would forget whatever he was saying whenever she sauntered by. Oh, her father had been furious but it had been ever so worth it to see that no matter how the Doctor pushed her away in those days, he’d wanted her terribly.

 

Hearing the Doctor puttering about in the kitchen as he makes breakfast, River gives herself one last satisfied glance in the mirror before she slips out of their bedroom and down the hall. Breakfast smells fantastic and she smiles to herself, wondering if the Doctor will manage not to burn any of it once he realizes what she’s wearing. The last time she’d worn these shorts in front of him, he’d barely been able to walk. Bless.

 

In the kitchen, the Doctor stands at the hob with his back to her, glaring an omelet into submission. River walks right up behind him, sliding her arms around his waist and pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “Good morning, darling.”

 

The Doctor hums, turning his head absently in search of a proper kiss, and she’s only too happy to lean up on her toes and offer him one. “Very good morning,” he says, turning to face her once she releases him and steps away. To his credit, he notices the shorts instantly and smiles. “Haven’t seen those in a while. You were such a tease.”

 

“It wasn’t teasing, darling. It was an invitation.”

 

“And quite a comely one.” He winks. “You were hard to resist.”

 

“If I remember correctly, you were plenty hard yourself, Doctor.”

 

He snorts. “You certainly made sure of that, you bad girl.”

 

River barely resists the urge to preen. “You liked it.”

 

“Always.” He presses a kiss to her cheek. “Tea’s on the table, dear.”

 

With a quick slap to her bum, he sends her on her way and turns his attention back to his omelets. River peers at him questioningly for a long moment and when no other reaction is forthcoming, sinks into a chair at the table. The Doctor moves around the kitchen like a seasoned pro, chopping and dicing and frying with the ease of a man who’s had lessons from all the greats. He doesn’t drop any eggs, doesn’t slice his finger on a sharp knife, and never over-seasons.

 

Staring thoughtfully into her tea, River says nothing until the Doctor settles a plate heaped with food in front of her. She blinks down at it. It looks delicious and it smells mouth-watering but… “You didn’t burn it,” she says, unable to completely hide the disappointment in her voice. “Not one thing.”

 

“Of course not,” he says, his brow furrowed and his voice smug. He waggles his brows, stealing a slice of bacon from her plate and planting a kiss on top of her head. “What sort of chef do you take me for, wife?”

 

She smiles and murmurs her thanks, waiting until he turns away before she stabs her fork into her tomatoes and mutters, “Certainly not a distracted one.”

 

**iv.**

 

When the Doctor asks her one lazy Sunday afternoon if she’d like to take a trip, River isn’t only thinking of seduction when she asks for a visit to the beach. Living on Darillium is lovely on all accounts except one – the complete lack of sunlight. And even that is rather romantic most of the time. Still, a girl can hardly pass up the opportunity to dazzle her husband with a swimsuit.

 

She chooses the skimpiest one she can find, a string bikini that barely covers her and most importantly, one that the Doctor can undo even if he’s very, very distracted. She saunters out of their bedroom and to the TARDIS with high expectations but the Doctor glances up from the console and barely blinks.

 

“I set the coordinates for Space Florida but you’re flying because I haven’t changed.” He reaches for her hand the moment she’s close enough, tugging her into him with a warning clear in his eyes. “Don’t touch the brakes.”

 

“Or what?” She musters a smile for him. “Going to spank me?”

 

“Course not,” he says, kissing her knuckles. “You’d like that too much.”

 

She pouts. “Spoilsport.”

 

Grinning, the Doctor releases her hand and turns away. As he heads for the TARDIS wardrobe, he calls over his shoulder, “You look quite fetching, by the way.”

 

River stares after him, utterly perplexed.

 

She spends most of the day in a similar state of bewilderment, trying to get the Doctor to blush or stutter or otherwise react to her in a way that she’s used to but he keeps being perfectly in control. Even when she holds out her bottle of suntan lotion he barely even blinks as she asks, “Do my back, darling?”

 

Lying on her stomach on a towel in the sand, River wonders about the wisdom of such a decision as the Doctor’s warm, lotion-slick hands slide over her back. He knows her too well, knows that tracing the dip of her spine with his fingertips will make her melt or touching that spot just at the curve of her neck will make her toes curl.

 

Those clever fingers slip beneath the knot holding her top in place, sliding up her ribcage and brushing the sides of her breasts. She inhales sharply, squirming, and bites her lip against a moan. Instantly, the Doctor draws his hands away. “Sorry,” he murmurs, sounding far too calm and smug. “My hand slipped.”

 

As he pulls away, River glares at him over the rim of her sunglasses. “Tease.”

 

“Minx,” he counters, dropping a kiss to her shoulder blade.

 

She shudders, watching through half-lidded eyes as he wipes his hands on a towel and sits back to watch her with a smirk. Though she sneaks glimpses of him every now and then out of the corner of her eye, she never sees him staring with interest at anyone else.

 

All of his attention seems to be focused on her and she knows what he’s attempting to hide beneath that wadded up beach towel on his lap but he never bloody reacts at all. No blushing, no stammering, not even any terribly unsubtle attempts to get her into a cabana.

 

 _Nothing_.

 

It’s starting to drive her a little spare.

 

**v.**

 

For the most part, River considers herself a confident woman. She’d hardly call herself vain – that particular trait belongs to him indoors – but she knows what she looks like and she isn’t oblivious to the frequent staring. For the first time in quite a while, she’s starting to feel a little self-conscious.

 

It’s difficult to hang onto her bravado when her husband wouldn’t notice if she was wearing a parka or a corset. Out of ideas and frustrated enough to slap him, she decides to go with something even the Doctor can’t possibly ignore – nothing at all.

 

River slips out of her robe and considers herself in the mirror, biting her lip thoughtfully. Though Darillium won’t see sunshine for another twenty-four years, the Doctor takes her to exotic, off-planet beaches often enough that her skin still retains that bronzed glow. They’re technically retired for the time being but she’s been diligent about maintaining her muscle definition and while she isn’t exactly getting any younger, gravity hasn’t become her enemy just yet. She fluffs her hair and squints at her reflection, determining that there’s no reason the Doctor shouldn’t take one look at her and choke on air.

 

When she wanders into their living room without a stitch on, her troublesome husband is nowhere to be found. In fact, she can’t find him in the house at all. It’s only when she looks outside that she finds him, sitting under the stars in the garden with a book. Groaning under her breath – Darillium nights are positively freezing – but determined to finally get a reaction out of the Doctor, she pushes open the back door and slips outside.

 

She shudders instantly, gooseflesh appearing on her skin and her nipples pebbling in the cold night air. She watches her breath form clouds when she exhales, clenching her teeth lest they start chattering. Perfectly comfortable dressed in his usual trousers, hoodie, and coat, the Doctor doesn’t even look up from his book but he beckons her to him with a raised hand, waiting for her to take it and join him.

 

“Wondered where you were,” he mutters, his eyes still scanning the page. “I was beginning to worry you were cross with me.”

 

River takes his hand, joining him on the steps. “Why would I be cross? Have you done something?”

 

“No, but it usually doesn’t take you so long to-” He finally glances up and whatever he’d been about to say stalls in his throat. His eyes widen marginally and River is just about to indulge in a bit of victorious snogging when the Doctor frowns and says, “Not that you aren’t lovely, dear, but isn’t it a bit cold for my favorite outfit?”

 

River blinks at him.

 

Without waiting for a reply, the Doctor sets aside his book and wrestles out of his velvet coat. He drapes it tenderly around her shoulders and wraps an arm around her, drawing her into him. Disappointment sinks like a stone in her stomach but he’s so warm that River curls into his side anyway, shivering. The Doctor turns his head, pressing a kiss to her temple.

 

Before all of this – before twenty-four years and so much domestic bliss she could gag on it – she might have questioned his feelings for her but there’s no mistaking him anymore. The Doctor loves her. He wants her. And he pretends, for her sake, to appreciate a new dress or a haircut but it seems he simply doesn’t notice what she looks like anymore.

 

For a woman who tends to use her looks to her advantage like some use weaponry, it’s quite the blow to her ego but the Doctor cradles her close and quietly frets in her ear about her catching cold and River merely sighs, sagging against him in defeat. She’ll just have to learn to live with it.

 

“Come on,” she whispers, mustering a smile for him. “You can warm me up inside.”

 

**\+ i.**

 

They’re nearly six months into their time together when she sinks onto the sofa in the den with a hot cup of tea and a stack of student essays to grade. Technically, she has twenty-three and a half years to grade them but she just knows if she doesn’t do them now, the Doctor will distract her and before she knows it, she’ll be grading the bloody things on a shuttle craft to her classes.

 

Curled up in flannel pajamas and a warm robe, she scribbles a note in the margin of an essay and huffs a curl out of her eyes. Pushing her reading glasses back up the bridge of her nose, she frowns at a particularly illegible name and wonders if the stain at the bottom of the page is spilled custard or something a bit more… disgusting.

 

Wrinkling her nose, River pinches the essay between her thumb and forefinger, setting it aside delicately. “Definitely an F,” she mutters, moving to the next one.

 

It takes her ages to notice that the Doctor, sitting on the other side of the sofa with a hefty book, has abandoned his chosen literature for the evening in favor of staring at her. She feels his eyes on her, a heated prickle against the side of her face, and glances at him out of the corner of her eye.

 

Lifting her head and turning toward him, she arches an expectant brow. “Something I can help you with, sweetie?”

 

He smiles slowly, his eyes warm and tender and full to brimming with all the things he sometimes finds so hard to say. He’s looking at her like he’s so in love it chokes him. The very sight of that expression on his face is enough to steal her breath. She stares at him, transfixed and unable to look away.

 

She hasn’t actively tried to get a reaction out of him in weeks. Feeling happy and more loved and content than she has in years, she’d decided it would be silly to go looking for things to be upset about. The Doctor is always the Doctor but certain aspects do change from one man to the next. This version of her husband just happens to be oblivious to the finer details of her charms.

 

And now that she’s totally given up, he has the nerve to look at her like that.

 

Swallowing hard, she asks, “What?”

 

He blinks, still staring at her with that unwavering warmth in his eyes. “What, what?”

 

She sets aside her stack of essays and turns to look at him properly, snatching her glasses off the end of her nose. “Why are you looking at me like that?” At his questioning eyebrow raise, she huffs and gestures impatiently to his face. “You look positively besotted, darling.”

 

“Well, I am.” He smirks. “And I always look at you like this.”

 

River stares at him, mystified, as the realization settles over her. “You do, don’t you?”

 

Shutting his book, the Doctor reaches out a hand and strokes her knee through her flannel pajama bottoms. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“River.”

 

It’s just her name but he says it like an order. Firm but patient, his tongue still curling around its syllables lovingly. She can never resist when he says her name like that and this time is no different. Sighing, River turns her gaze away and confesses to her fuzzy socks, “In your last body, you were so…”

 

“Stupid?”

 

She lifts her head, glaring at him.

 

“What?” He blinks at her innocently. “Just trying to help.”

 

“You wanted me,” she corrects softly. “All the time.”

 

The Doctor’s mouth opens and closes in total silence for a long moment before he manages to choke out, “And, what? You think I don’t now?”

 

“Not in the same way,” she admits carefully. “And that’s fine, sweetie. I know things change.”

 

“How can you possibly think I want you any less now?” The Doctor stares at her, his eyes wide and incredulous. “No matter how hard I try, I can never stop bloody looking at you. Before you, this body didn’t even want to hold hands but now there are days we don’t even leave our bed to eat! And you know how this body loves a good snack, River.”

 

She stares somewhere over his shoulder, unable to look at him while she rips her hearts out of her chest and hangs them on her sleeve for him. “I was walking around here starkers and you tried to put me in your coat. Before, you’d have either fainted or followed me about with your tongue hanging out.”

 

“Is that what this is about?” He asks softly, his voice tight. His fingers stop stroking her knee, frozen in place. “You miss Bowtie?”

 

“What?” She returns her gaze to him instantly, appalled. “No, honey. You’re always you to me, no matter what. It’s not the face, it’s-” She drops her hand to cover his over her knee, squeezing his fingers reassuringly. “I just – I miss feeling…”

 

The Doctor slips his hand from beneath hers and the knowledge that he might not believe her – that he might actually think something as inconsequential as the face he wears matters to her – makes her hearts seize in her chest. “Feeling what, River?”

 

“Desired,” she snaps, brutally honest in her panic. “I miss feeling like you want me. I know you do. I know it’s silly and we’ve certainly had enough sex to prove that but it’s _different_.” She blinks hard, swallowing. “It’s like you don’t _see_ me anymore.”

 

Beside her, the Doctor stills. A quiet sigh escape his lips and his hand returns instantly to hers, lacing their fingers together tightly. “River,” he says, his voice soft and fond. “Of course I see you. That’s precisely the problem.”

 

Too startled to avoid his intent gaze any longer, River lifts her eyes to his. “What?”

 

“I – young, stupid me, I mean – I cared for you as much as I could then. Loved you, even.” The Doctor scrubs a hand over his face, his fingers inching into his hair. “But I couldn’t give you all of me. Certainly never let myself have all of you either. Too fucking terrifying to contemplate.”

 

His thumb strokes over her knuckles in silent apology and River stares, her hearts in her throat, as the Doctor – the man who always knows just what to say and when to say it – struggles to find the words.

 

“Every time I looked at you…” He licks his lips. “I tried so bloody hard to fight what I felt that just the sight of you was overwhelming. Couldn’t even control my own limbs with you around.”

 

She swallows, barely daring to breathe in the silence. “And now?”

 

The Doctor huffs out a soft, pained laugh. “You’re no less overwhelming, love, but I’ve surrendered.” His blue eyes lift to meet hers, pinning her in place with the weight of his gaze. “You have me, River. I don’t know why you’d want it but you own every single ugly bit of me. And I know you gave me all of you a long time ago but I’m finally man enough to accept it.”

 

River blinks hard, her vision blurry as the Doctor lifts her hand to his lips and kisses her knuckles. “Doctor…”

 

He shakes his head, studying her fingertips. “I don’t just see what you look like,” he says. “I see your hearts and your kindness. How generous you are with those you love. You’re not what lingerie you’re wearing or what shade of lipstick you have on. I look at you and I see everything, River. I never stop seeing you. And you’re _beautiful_.”

 

Barely managing to speak around the lump of emotion welling in her throat, River breathes, “Really?”

 

He nods, meeting her gaze steadily. “I’m sorry if it’s not as terribly obvious as it was before.” His mouth twitches faintly. “I suppose I’m just not fighting it anymore.”

 

Shaking her head, River blinks the tears from her eyes and crosses the sofa cushions between them until his arms wrap around her and she’s nestled securely on his lap. “Don’t you dare apologize,” she whispers, taking his ridiculous, beautiful face in her hands. “I didn’t know…” She laughs tearfully, looking into his eyes and seeing that very same tenderness that has always been there. “You besotted idiot. Don’t ever stop looking at me like that.”

 

The Doctor grins, his nose brushing hers and his lips against the corner of her mouth. “Not a chance.”


End file.
